Bespoke
by NerdHerderette
Summary: A long and busy week leaves Hux exhausted and eager to close up shop. But when a tall and handsome stranger walks in and requests a uniquely custom-made item, how can he refuse?


**Bespoke**

 **Summary:** A long and busy week leaves Hux exhausted and eager to close up shop. But when a tall and handsome stranger walks in and requests a uniquely custom-made item, how can he refuse?

 **[excerpt]:**  
"What are you interested in, then?" Ren strode over to inspect a jacket which decorated one of the dress forms. It was made of a dove grey vicuña wool and was exquisitely cut, with perfectly pitched sleeves. He turned over the cuff, thumbing the cerise silk lining which lay hidden underneath. There was something proprietorial about the way he handled the smooth fabric-the silken material flowing over his thick fingers like the juices of cooked cherries staining his skin-that felt uncomfortably familiar.

Hux swallowed, conscious of the tightness which reappeared in his throat.

"This," Ren said softly. His eyes flashed dangerously, pinpoint amber lasers trained on green, the delicate and lustrous sendal firmly ensconced in his hand. "I want you to make me something out of this." Notes: Inspired by **_bona-mana's_** incredible Tumblr comic and its implications for a Tailor!Hux fic that wouldn't leave me alone.

 **.~oOo~.**

"Anything else you want me to do before I call it a day, Hux?"

Hux concentrated on finishing the last several stitches on the armscye before glancing up. Thanisson looked as haggard as he felt. London was in the midst of an extraordinary month of meetings and conventions, and the overflowing demand for local tailoring services had spilled out from some of the more well-known establishments to less recognized ones like his own.

He was suddenly aware of the stiffness in his fingers and the gnawing ache which had settled on his thin frame. It was nearly six, and the rays of sun which normally lit up the small space of his workroom were quickly replaced by the unnatural brightness of the overhead, incandescent lights.

Hux smiled ruefully at Thanisson. It did not escape his notice that the prodigy cutter's eyes-the color of melted chocolate and normally sparkling with mischief- appeared uncharacteristically weary.

"I'm sorry, Thanisson. I know it's been busy, with all these last minute alterations. I'll make it up to you when things settle down. Roasts at The Dove next Sunday? My treat."

"Yeah, sounds good Hux. And I'd rather be busy," the young man added gamely. "It's better than kicking our heels, at any rate." He proceeded to stretch his long limbs, the arching movement causing the hem of his tee to ride up ever-so-slightly over the top of his jeans. "It's not a terrible thing, you know, seeing the store filled with so many well-dressed twinks," he added with a grin.

Hux couldn't help the smile which quirked at his lips in response to Thanisson's artful behavior. Thanisson could easily fall in that category himself. He possessed delicate features, warm eyes, floppy hair and a wide mouth which promised wicked things. It had to be at least once a week that he let his somewhat unprofessional admiration of Hux be known.

If Hux were several years younger-and not Thanisson's boss-he may have been sorely tempted to give those roseate lips a go.

They both started upon hearing the tinkling of a bell and the opening slide of the front door.

"Small seams," Thanisson muttered under his breath. "It's past closing time. You want me to get rid of them?"

"No, I'll take care of it. And I won't begrudge you a hasty escape through the back door." Hux inclined his head towards the narrow exit which led out to the alleyway, acknowledging Thanisson's grateful expression with a brief nod. He stood, adjusting the stitching to the Bemberg cupro until it hung perfectly smooth. He made his way towards the storefront, hoping that whomever awaited for him would be respectful of the posted business hours. His heart sunk when he heard the strong, sharp steps pacing about the entryway's floor.

It wasn't just the sound of cured French calfskin against the worn wood and the clip of a stacked leather heel which gave him warning. There was something about the way those heels clicked that sounded demanding and impatient.

It was the sound of someone incredibly self-possessed.

He steeled himself for an argument as he pushed open the studio's door. "I'm sorry, sir, but we're closed for to-"

The words trailed off, hitching and disappearing in the back of his throat as the other male turned.

His suit hugged him _perfectly_. The warp of the dark grey Dormeuil Guanashina lay pinpoint straight, stretching subtly as the male twisted his torso to meet Hux's flustered gaze. His strong and long neck was encircled by a crisp collar, its sharp points framed by the jacket's sophisticatedly notched gorge and pick-stitched lapels. The garment's impeccable cut tapered flawlessly to a narrowed waist, and the rear vent hinted at the delicious set of buttocks hidden underneath.

These were the clothes of a man who indulged in the greatest luxuries in life. They were the attire of a man who wore Blancpain on his wrist, who resided on the top floor at The Mayfair, and who dined at his regular table in _Salon Prive._ They were the habiliments of a man who would not think twice at having a traveling tailor at his disposal, instead of seeking the services of a tweed-merchant toiling in a dusty storefront half a mile from Savile Row.

Hux dragged his eyes up, and was rewarded by the glint of silver cufflinks as the stranger graced him with a knowing smirk.

"I'm sorry, sir," Hux began, certain that the words were foreign to the man's ears. "But we are closed." He winced at how quickly he conceded upon witnessing the gentleman's corresponding frown. "Unless you are in need of a quick repair?"

"I am not in need of a repair. Nor anything quick." The man flashed a set of blindingly white, perfectly aligned teeth as he held out his hand. "Kylo Ren. Strategic advisor at Barclay's, and an admirer of your work."

Hux ran his fingers through his hair. He was suddenly acutely aware of his need for a haircut and a shave. His irritability at Ren's presupposition and the exhaustion of the last several weeks made him bold.

"I don't mean to be presumptuous, Mr. Ren. But you obviously have both the inclination and the means to enjoy the best of what the sartorial world has to offer. I am not ashamed of my work-not by a long shot-but we are inundated with orders, and I am not sure what I can provide for you that you don't already have at your beck and call."

Kylo waved his hand dismissively. "I am not looking to order another suit. Believe me, I have more of those than I need."

Hux did believe him. The fabric of his garments not only draped immaculately, they looked utterly pristine. Despite Hux's reservations, his curiosity trumped his fatigue.

"What are you interested in, then?"

Ren strode over to inspect a jacket which decorated one of the dress forms. It was made of a dove grey vicuña wool and was exquisitely cut, with perfectly pitched sleeves. He turned over the cuff, thumbing the cerise silk lining which lay hidden underneath. There was something proprietorial about the way he handled the smooth fabric- the silken material flowing over his thick fingers like the juices of cooked cherries staining his skin-that felt uncomfortably familiar.

Hux swallowed, conscious of the tightness which reappeared in his throat.

"This," Ren said softly. His eyes flashed dangerously, pinpoint amber lasers trained on green, the delicate and lustrous sendal firmly ensconced in his hand. "I want you to make me something out of this."

"Mr. Ren?" Hux sputtered in surprise. Surely a man of his experience was aware that the lining was made of Charmeuse silk. "This fabric has an extremely high momme count, and quite a delicate hand. It is not only extremely fragile, but difficult to work with. It would be much better suited as a lining, rather than-"

Ren ignored Hux's protests. "Please bring me roughly six yards of this particular silk, or something similar if you do not have it. And if it wouldn't be too much trouble, I would appreciate a little privacy." He smiled, the shadows turning the expression into a leer. "I believe I am to be your last customer for the night."

Without thinking, Hux obeyed. He dimmed the lights in the entrance and locked the front door, hurriedly flipping the placard on the glass window to read "Closed." He aimed for an imperious look in an attempt to regain some command.

"If you would like to wait in the back, , there are several changing rooms which you may avail yourself of. I will be back with the samples." Hux stiffened upon hearing Ren's chuckle. There was the sound of a welted leather upper sliding against the wispy fabric of Ren's socks, which was quickly followed by the muffled noise of an elegant chisel toe hitting the floor.

Hux straightened, aiming for the most upright posture possible as he turned on his heel and made his way towards the back of the store. The cerise silk beckoned to him from the recesses of his workroom, its jeweled color standing out among the rest of the fabrics with its lustrous glow. He hesitated, pulling out and studying a bolt of cobalt blue tussore briefly before replacing it on its shelf. Given Ren's impressive height and masculinity, Hux was filled with the urge to have only the most flawless and beauteous of fabrics grace that pale and expansive skin.

He hurried back, clearing his throat as he re-entered the fitting room's space. He briefly registered the clink of a weighted hanger sliding across a wooden pole before he lost the remainder of his tenuous control.

Kylo stood unabashedly exposed, clad only in his briefs. Hux told himself it was purely for professional reasons that he drank in the sight of Ren's powerfully muscled back, or that he felt the need to linger over the curve of those buttocks, or to gaze at the shapeliness of Ren's calves. That it was only for the sake of the clothes that he spiraled his finger in the air, ordering Kylo to turn, so that he may scrutinize the breadth of his pectorals and contemplate the definition of his waist.

Kylo eyed the silken yards eagerly as they lay draped across Hux's delicate arms. He stepped forward, looking at it with a nearly reverent expression before holding the material softly against his skin.

It fell in liquid sheets like a waterfall against his hard planes, its sheen brightening along the swell of his curves and darkening as it traversed a fold. The color set off Ren's pale skin and ebony locks like the palette of a swollen mouth following a torrid kiss.

Hux couldn't remember seeing anything quite so beautiful.

"It's perfect," Kylo breathed. He angled his body slightly, the movement changing the jut of his hips and the fall of his waist into something more feminine. The deep baritone of his voice hitched a little higher, becoming more lilting as he turned once more.

"I saw someone wearing one of your jackets at Mahiki earlier this week. The color combination was remarkable. Your skill with, and your love of fabrics is quite obvious. You truly show extraordinary promise." Hux flushed prettily, and it was not solely due to the compliment. He watched as the fabric shifted with the slightest of Ren's movements, the outline of Ren's considerable cock evident as it lay long and heavy against his thigh.

Ren observed the lust that flared in Hux's eyes. Ren's own fluttered, his dewy lashes splayed long against the curve of his cheeks.

"I want you to create for me the perfect gown."

Hux sucked in his breath. His cock swelled at the thought of frail spaghetti straps hitching over Ren's broad shoulders and the stretch and cling of bias cut silk as it fell off Ren's sharp hips. His eyes darted down to Ren's chest, his heartbeat accelerating as he visualized those ample breasts spilling out from and hard nipples straining against the low neckline of a dress.

"I am flattered, Mr. Ren." Hux eyed Ren covetously as the powerful male stood draped in the silk, decadently haphazard in its current state of moulage. "But perhaps you would be better served by _un couturier_ for such a request? "

Ren watched Hux slowly. "The French have a saying, Mr. Hux. That _le tailleur_ dress men and undress women, while _le couturier_ dress women and undress men." He pulled up at the fabric so it rested over his right shoulder as his eyes took on a predatory gleam.

"I don't believe that a person should be limited to one or the other. I also happen to believe that you possess the talent to be both."

Hux pulled at his tape measure from where it lay around his neck in response. At six-foot two he could hardly be described as short, but Ren's additional size forced Hux to lean forward and stand on his toes. He balanced precariously from this position as he wound the cloth measure around the base of Ren's throat.

He slipped an index finger between the tapeline and Ren's neck.

"17-1/2," he muttered. Ren's skin was unusually smooth, his pulse a heated, steady thrum.

Hux lowered the measure. Ren watched closely, eyebrow raised. Hux took a deep breath, before bringing his arms around Ren's back. The span of his shoulders forced Hux to move closer, and he was overtaken by the scent of neroli and tobacco as he lowered his head. Ren inhaled, his breasts swelling in response to the subtle movement, his nipples puckering against the edge of the tape.

"48-1/2," Hux whispered. Ren stared intently at the lush curve of Hux's mouth, until Hux finally tore his eyes away.

Fingers trembling, he lowered the measure to Ren's waist. He tightened the string as the lines narrowed, the sudden movement causing Ren's body to lurch forward, and the taller male's breath to hitch.

"41." Hux brought the tape down so it rested above the jut of Ren's hips. He fought to keep his voice steady. "43."

He hesitated when confronted with the sight of Ren's cock, its thick length pressing forward and peeping out insistently over the tops of his briefs.

Hux knelt and drew the tape measure along the inseam of Ren's legs. He was mortified as he let out a moan upon touching the silky smoothness of Ren's shaved skin. Hux dragged his knuckles slowly along its tall length, fighting the urge to replace his greedy hands with greedier lips, and to taste that milky skin.

He froze, unsure once he reached Ren's crotch. Ren's cock was tantalizingly outlined in front of his face, separated from his mouth by only the flimsiest barrier of cotton.

Ren shifted, his swollen prick coming to rest against the gentle curve of Hux's cheek. He stood there waiting, his pupils huge and dark.

Hux mouthed him through the cotton stretch. The combed fibers of Ren's briefs grew moist, forming a warm spot which turned matte color a piceous black. He grabbed Ren's buttocks, pulling him deeper as those globes clenched in response, the glide of silk falling across his hands as the endless yards of cherry red fabric slowly unraveled and puddled onto the floor.

"Hux!" Ren breathed, his name escaping in a long hiss. Hux groaned as he encircled the outline of Ren's erection and threatened it with the pressure of his teeth. He reached up determinedly, his fingers hooking over the waistband and pulling down. The top caught against the Ren's engorged head, delaying its descent before finally wriggling free and releasing the entire length of his magnificent prick with a glorious _pop._

"It will ruin the lines," Hux rasped as he pulled them off, his voice hoarse with his need. He eyed Ren's bared member greedily. It was gorgeous like the rest of him-thick and long, jutting out from a cleanly shaved groin and flushed a delicious shade of red. It rested against the hard planes of Ren's abdomen, decorated with the beads of precome which leaked steadily from his slit.

It was the most glorious cock Hux had ever seen. It _deserved_ to be caressed in the finest of silks, its magnificence exploited under a skirt of semi-transparent voile. It _begged_ to be cradled in briefs of the finest Sea Island cotton, or tucked into trousers made of Loro Piana wool. Ren's body was perfection, a veritable vestiary muse.

 _His beauty could be yours_. Hux felt Ren shudder as Hux sought to devour him, sucking along that magnificent, rigid length, the velvety weight of Ren pressing against his tongue.

"Look at you," Ren groaned. He reached forward with his free hand to gently cup Hux's face.

"Look, Hux," Ren repeated, turning Hux's attention towards their reflections in the mirror. Hux stared; his green eyes were unusually bright, his cheekbones lightly flushed, his lips wet and swollen as he continued to work the length of Ren's prick.

"You already know me so well," Ren whispered as he slowly fed his cock down Hux's throat.

There was something about the domineering nature of Ren's behavior-the filthiness of his words, the massiveness of his prick, and the confidence which he commanded-which was at odds with the softness of his hair, the graceful slope of his chin, and the seductiveness of his pout. He embodied the extremes of both masculinity and femininity, and it was with a sudden start that Hux realized this was what Ren sought to express through his bespoken dress.

Ren gripped Hux's head, the lengths of Hux's hair glinting gold and russet as they fell from between Ren's fingers underneath the evening lights. He pumped his hips slowly, tilting and adjusting the angle until Hux nearly choked.

Tears gathered in the corners of Hux's eyes as he made an attempt to relax his throat. His hands curled in concession around the base of Ren's sizeable prick, stroking the turgid length firmly in tandem with Ren's quickening thrusts. He was dizzy and breathless, overwhelmed by the wetness of his saliva, the pressure of his fist as it banged against his tumescent lips, and the heavy weight and salty taste of Ren on his tongue.

Hux felt Ren's balls lift and tighten as they slapped repeatedly against his chin.

"Your mouth. Oh sweet Jesus, that mouth. So good, so good," Ren crooned as he watched his prick slip in and out from between Hux's wet and shiny lips.

The thought of having Ren's raw power magicked in his hands-all that heavy muscle and graceful lines bound within the confines of his designs, restrained by his choice of cloth-was more than Hux could bear. It caused him to spill against the threads of his trousers, his cries reverberating along Ren's cock as he came, untouched.

" _Fuuuuck_ ," Ren shouted as he stiffened and his eyes rolled. He threw his head back, his cock spilling thick ropes of come down Hux's throat.

 _Don't stain the silk,_ Hux thought hysterically. _Not at nearly several hundred dollars a yard._

He nearly laughed as he tried to swallow all of the salty, bitter fluid that was quickly flooding his mouth. Ren let out one last groan, his movements stuttering before he finally stilled.

Hux leaned back, Ren's softening cock falling gently from his mouth. Hux ran his tongue tentatively along his swollen and distended lips, and drew in a ragged breath.

"Ren," he croaked.

Hux waited awkwardly, fully clothed and sticky from his ejaculate and their sweat. He glanced up shyly, only to find Ren watching him with an incredulous expression. Kylo swept the base of his thumb along the corner of Hux's mouth, the quick movement capturing the residue which Hux had previously missed

"Oh!" Hux exclaimed softly. His embarrassment was quickly drowned out as Ren brought his lips down in a gentle, but solicitous kiss.

"You are masterful, Hux." Ren whispered. His breath was warm and seductive, and his words raised the hairs at the base of Hux's neck. "I cannot wait to wear your designs. And I cannot wait to show the rest of the world just how much you are worth."

Ren smiled as he leaned in to taste himself on Hux's tongue. Hux gave in to the headiness of Ren's deepening kiss as they tumbled onto the changing room floor, their pale and freckled limbs growing progressively entangled in the pile of Charmeuse silk which lay vividly at the soles of their feet.


End file.
